Cold Hands, Warm Hearts
by IcyPanther
Summary: Lance went still beneath Shiro's ministrations. No more shivers, no trembles. Just still. Deathly still. "No," Shiro gasped. "No no no." Shaking hands desperately sought a pulse on the frigid skin. His breath hitched. He couldn't find one. / Lance falls into a frozen lake saving a child and now he's the one in need of saving. Shiro is determined to do just that. Gen fic, Shangst


**Timeline notes:** Set during season two

 **Warning notes:** Nada

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 **Cold Hands, Warm Hearts**

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 _Crack._

Lance froze, literally, as ice sank beneath his feet and a dusting of frigid water lapped at his toes.

"Lance…" Shiro called out his name, a warning and a plea for caution all in one, the sound broken up as another _crack_ splintered the air as Lance shifted his weight.

Above both sounds though was the soft sobbing of the Polari child, stranded further in on the half-frozen lake.

"It's okay, it's okay," Lance tried to reassure both of them as well as himself even as his legs shook from a combination of the cold and fear that this was very much not okay.

The Castle of Lions had landed on the winter planet of Polari earlier in the day to answer a distress beacon. It was for once not a call of aid against the Galra but against Mother Nature as strangely warmer temperatures (and warm was quite relative as the planet was still reading a current chilly eighteen degrees Fahrenheit) were descending upon the planet. The Polari believed it had something to do with a meteor that had crashed several weeks ago but they had no idea as to how to contain its strange effects or remove it.

Voltron had been happy to help although for the moment it was all science tests to try and determine the cause before they spent several days hauling it away into space piece by piece. Pidge, Hunk and Coran (whose knowledge of various space matters was invaluable) were on site with the meteor while Allura met with the village council to discuss Voltron.

Normally Shiro would accompany her but Allura, with a mischievous smile, said that Shiro needed to take a break from work and ordered him to have fun as he had spent the entire last two days going over report logs from their new allies, the Blade of Marmora. She'd put Lance in charge of that and Lance had puffed his chest out. He _was_ pretty much the master of all things fun.

That had meant though Allura had taken Keith with her to meet with the council. _Keith!_ With _Allura._ The last time the two of them had gone off alone they'd nearly blown themselves up, a fact that Lance was happy to remind them of because Keith was _alone_ with the princess (even though they really weren't, Shiro had pointed out with a gentle chuckle, given the whole council meeting thing) but that was beside the point and it should be Lance accompanying Allura. Not reckless, likely-to-get-them-outlawed-from-the-planet-by-doing-something-stupid Keith.

But…

He couldn't deny he was looking forward to spending time with Shiro. They'd been in space for at least a few months and in all that time Lance couldn't recall ever getting to just hang out one on one with his hero as when Shiro did have free time he chose to spend it training (ugh), doing more work (double ugh) or sleeping (that Lance understood and he was glad because Shiro did _not_ sleep enough and he needed the rest) but otherwise it was always a group affair unless Shiro was just hanging with Keith.

But now he'd been given the day to force Shiro to have fun and fun in Lance's world had _nothing_ to do with any of Shiro's chosen solo activities. He'd debated for all of half a second on what to do but the answer had been clear.

Polari was covered in snow.

A snowball fight to the (not) death it was.

He'd even managed to make it sound sort of like a training exercise – after all snowball fights were about stealth and aim and the building of forts and those were all useful things – and to his delight Shiro had agreed with enthusiasm.

The Castle was lacking in any type of clothing appropriate for winter activities, but their armor was pretty well insulated along with their underarmour and the helmets kept their faces and ears toasty. They'd trekked a ways from the village to where the snowfall was thick and nearly undisturbed – a path running through it that they'd been told led to a series of lakes and streams that the Polari used for both recreation and to harvest fish.

He and Shiro had been outside for maybe an hour, a temporary truce drawn to allow them to construct their forts, when the peaceful air was shattered by the sounds of crying.

Two Polari children – who resembled a cross between bi-pedal polar bears and fluffy bunny rabbits and were the latter's size – had come racing towards them. Lance had found himself kneeling down with one in each arm, long ears brushing his chin, as they babbled with fear that the ice on the lake had cracked and their friend was trapped and it was starting to sink and they didn't know what to do and please, _help,_ their friend could not swim.

There wasn't time to go back to the village.

Lance had taken off, Shiro hot on his heels, towards the lake with orders for the kids to stay by the forts.

They'd found the third child, smaller than the other two, cowering and crying on a section of lake near the middle with splinters running rampant and growing wider.

Shiro had gone to step onto the surface and his leg had plowed right through and he'd gritted his teeth against the instinctual yell as what felt like frozen needles had pierced where the armor did not cover before he'd managed to yank it free.

Lance had put out a careful foot then, feeling the thicker ice on the edge supporting him but a dull cracking sound when he pushed down harder.

They were both too heavy, weighed down with armor and for Shiro on top of that his prosthetic arm, which Lance knew was at least double the weight of its flesh counterpart.

If Lance removed his armor… he would have a much better chance.

And, if he did fall in, at least he wouldn't sink immediately although the shock from the cold as it permeated his undersuit would likely be just as bad.

But the child was crying and the ice was breaking and they didn't have _time_ for another plan.

So here Lance was now, over halfway to the child with his feet splayed and arms wide and trying to distribute his mass as much as he could and chilled air biting deep through his underarmour and his face already aching from the exposure.

The ice shifted below his feet again and Lance gritted his teeth, forcing himself to take another careful step even as spiderwebs continued to spread out.

Almost there.

What he was going to do when he reached the child though he wasn't entirely sure. What he would give for some rope right now or Pidge's bayard.

The ice gave another lurch and Lance could not hold in the yelp as water washed over his ankle.

But that was the least of his concerns.

For the ice was starting to give all around, smaller fissures giving way to larger ones and the piece Lance had balanced himself on was starting to tip, his body weight pulling it free and he was _going to slide into the lake._

"Lance!" Shiro was screaming his name now, helpless on the shore, and Lance hated that he'd put that note of terror there.

Ocean eyes tracked to the huddled Polari, just a hand's stretch from him and the ice underneath it rocking as his own piece upset the fragile system. Any second it would give and the child would sink and that would be the end of it. Realization shone on the Polari's face, tears leaking down his furred cheeks and he whimpered out for his mother.

No.

Lance was not going to let this be the end.

Legs bunching beneath him, the water up to his calves now and his purchase on the ice failing, Lance leapt.

He hit the piece of ice the child was on, right leg crashing through its weakened surface while his left somehow remained atop. His shout came out in a gasp as water rose up the length of his leg, but he couldn't pause now.

Gloved hands reached out and grabbed the child by the back of their ruff, fingers digging in hard and Lance mentally apologized for the pain he knew he was causing and was about to further cause if this worked.

 _Dios, please_ let this work.

The ice he'd come from was beyond compromised but the half going the other direction was relatively clear. The child was light enough. He just needed a chance.

Lance could give him a chance.

He pulled his arm back and _threw_ like he did when skipping stones.

The Polari went airborne for a few seconds before hitting the ice and skidding across it, too quick and light for the new cracks on the ice to find purchase, before he came to a halt as he hit the bank on the other side, flipping into the soft and solid snow.

Lance had a moment to grin, utter relief filling him that the child was _safe…_ before the ice gave out fully below him.

He caught the front part of Shiro's scream before he went under.

Cold did not begin to describe it.

The air was stolen from his lungs like he'd been punched, the cold so intense it _burned._

It was dark under the ice, near black and for one horrible moment Lance had no idea which way was up until he felt something strike the top of his head and he kicked upwards with all he had.

He knew he only had a few seconds left. A few seconds before he ran out of air, before his body became too tired, too frozen, to move.

And if he didn't come out…

Then he knew Shiro would go in.

And then Shiro would _die._ The armor, his arm, the way the metal was connected to his flesh, was too much for these conditions.

Shiro would die and it would be Lance's fault.

And so that meant he had to live.

He burst through the ice, coughing and gasping, frozen hands floundering for purchase on the ice, to somehow pull himself to some measure of safety.

He only managed to catch sight of Shiro, horror etched in his face, before the new piece of ice gave out below his hands and he went back under.

It was worse the second time.

His body didn't want to move, numb hands beyond pain now as he tried to force them to propel himself forward, his legs leaden and his lungs feeling like someone had shoved frozen fire down them.

Up! he screamed at himself. Up! Swim! _Go!_

His body didn't respond, the faint glimmering of white ice above growing further away.

He was going to die.

The thought was as heavy as his body.

He was going to _die._

Horror sparked through him then, returning pain to dulled limbs and Lance welcomed it.

He could not die here.

He _would_ not die here.

Desperate arms and legs pushed for the surface once more.

Lance broke free of the ice for a second time, not even having the strength to gasp at the frigid air that attacked his face.

His hands found another shelf of ice and his legs gave one last kick, trying to push his body onto it.

He didn't have the strength.

He could already feel himself slipping down from where he'd thrust his arms out over the ice and his legs had ceased their movements.

And then there was _pain_ as a something clenched in his hair down to his scalp and he'd have screamed if he could have as it _pulled_ and his entire weight was hauled forward, ice digging into his stomach as he was forcefully dragged.

Bleary eyes tried to focus past the pain, identifying the something as a hand which was connected to an arm which led… led back to Shiro, stretched out on his stomach at the edge of the lake and backing up as he continued to pull Lance out of his watery grave.

Oh.

He was closer to the lake edge than he'd thought.

Maybe all that flailing had been swimming in disguise?

With a last sort of squelching pop Lance felt his legs and feet clear the water and the tugging turned more desperate, hands going from his hair to his shoulders and heaving.

One of the hands _hurt_ and Lance let out a mockery of a whimper as it latched about him, cold and heavy and pain. The other one though was warm and it led to something even warmer and Lance focused on that, which led to focusing on the sounds around him and realizing they made up words.

"–ance, come on buddy. Oh God. Oh God. I've got you, come on. Lance, please. Oh God."

"Sh-Shiro," he mumbled, breaking off the mantra.

"Lance! Stay with me buddy. I've got you, it's okay. It's going to be okay."

The ground was shifting then and Lance moaned low in his throat as he was jostled, every movement feeling as though someone was shoving icicles made of fire into his body.

"Shiro," Lance whispered, eyes sliding closed as the world spun. In this new darkness the world around him seemed to become hazier, muted. The sounds were fading out.

"–ance! No! –ep… eyes... –en!"

He was so _tired._

He just needed to sleep. Just for a little while.

He'd feel better when he woke up.

He… he was sure of it.

Although, as the world went both white and black around the edges, he had the fleeting thought he might not ever wake up at all.

xxx

No.

No.

This was not happening.

"Lance!" the word came out more of a sob than anything. "Lance!"

But Lance's eyes remained closed, lashes dark against too pale of skin and lips tinged blue, the only bit of relief the barely there puffs of air.

At least he hadn't drowned.

It was about the only positive thing Shiro could find right now.

Shiro cradled the boy to him, hunching over and protecting his soaked form from the wind chill. He needed to keep him warm. But Shiro was all cold edges; armor, helmet, metal arm…

He was only making it worse.

Lance was going to _die_ if he couldn't get warm.

There was a blur of white from the corner of his eye and the Polari child was there, soft mewling cry coming from his fur-covered muzzle.

Shiro blinked.

Fur.

Warmth.

The child had the same idea and despite being not even the length of Lance's chest hopped on and splayed himself out to cover as much of Lance as he could.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he whimpered, nuzzling his face beneath Lance's chin. "I'm so sorry." He turned his face, catching Shiro's eye, and repeated his apology, body quivering and not just from the cold.

Shiro felt a wash of guilt at that and struggled to push his lips into some semblance of what he hoped was a comforting smile. This had been an accident and there was no blame to be found and the last thing he knew Lance would want would be to frighten the child further. The smile fell though as Lance trembled anew, a weak shaking thing that both comforted and alarmed Shiro because at least if he was shivering his body was still trying to warm itself.

The child let out another little whimper and another apology.

"Can you stay there? Keep him warm?" Shiro asked already stumbling to his feet. He hated how blunt it sounded but Lance did not have time to waste.

And he didn't have time because Shiro had failed. He hadn't been able to rescue the child himself and because of his limitations Lance was… was…

"Y-yes." A sniffle. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Shiro reassured, although the words tasted hollow on his tongue. "It's going to be okay," he reiterated.

It had to be okay.

He broke into a jog and then a run although he tried to keep his gait as steady as possible as Lance's head bumped against his chestplate and a head injury on top of the encroaching hypothermia would be very, very ill-advised.

Town was under ten minutes away at this pace and Shiro had made the decision to go there rather than trying to warm Lance where he was. He knew from the emergency first aid courses he'd taken at the Garrison that in cases like this getting the victim out of the wet clothing was vital, but the second part of that was then wrapping them in something warm.

Other than the Polari, the size of a hand towel, Shiro had nothing warm and at this point any delay would only hurt rather than help.

The only stop he made was at the forts where the two older children were waiting as instructed, their ruby eyes widening with distress as Shiro came running into view with Lance.

Without even being told their large hind legs were propelling them up and they were splaying themselves across Lance's chest and stomach as well.

Shiro gasped out a thank you and hurried on.

The castle was there a few minutes later, the most beautiful sight Shiro had ever laid eyes on. The biggest of the three Polari jumped down from his arms as Shiro made for the front door, reaching up with all of her short height to grasp at the handle and pull the door open.

If the situation were not what it was Shiro would have liked to commend them all on their quick-thinking throughout all of this.

A blast of warm air hit them as soon as Shiro entered the echoing metal hall and he let out a gasp. It wasn't quite of relief as this was still far from over but it was so, so much better. Lance had continued to shake in his arms the entire trip even though he had yet to awaken.

Shiro would take what he could get.

The Polari were hopping off now, looking a mixture of scared and uncertain of what they should do now.

"Go home," Shiro told them as gently as he could. There was nothing else they could do and their presence would only get underfoot.

"Will he be okay?" asked the smallest of the three, eyes sparkling still with tears.

"Yes," Shiro replied, even though he could taste the half-truth, the unknown. But Lance was going to be fine. Shiro would accept no other option and there was no use in further scaring children who had been through enough already with this.

It was a good enough answer for them and although they shot concerned looks and more whispered apologies, the three hopped out of the castle without any further protest, door closing behind them.

Shiro stood there for a few seconds, silence pressing in past his harsh breaths from the run and the quiet _plip plip plip_ of water dripping from Lance's soaked underarmour.

And then he broke into a run for Lance's room.

Shiro had never actually been in the Blue Paladin's room but he'd seen it enough times on his overnight rounds when sleep had eluded him and nightmares and memories had propelled him to check on his young team members and make sure they were _safe._

Lance's room was the most personalized outside of Pidge's trash heap of collectibles, although his was a much more organized chaos save for his desk full of skincare products. What he was recalling right now though were the pile of quilts that decorated the foot of Lance's bed.

Quilts were warm.

Lance needed all the warm things he could get.

He skidded to a halt in front of Lance's room, hand awkwardly reaching for the pad to retract the door and then he was stumbling in, low lights automatically turning on in the corners, and eyes tracking to the unmade bed and spotting the quilts peeking out from the flipped over comforter.

Perfect.

Shiro chose to put Lance down on the floor so he wouldn't dampen the currently dry bedding, kneeling with him and mentally going through the steps of what he recalled regarding hypothermia, tugging off his helmet so he could see better. Strip out of wet clothing. Dry. Gradually warm by wrapping in blankets, not hot water – that could cause heart arrhythmia and why he remembered that particular detail so vividly Shiro had no idea but he was glad he did. Start with body first, then limbs.

Shiro got stuck on step one.

The underamour was plastered to Lance like a second, frigid skin, and did not want to come off.

Shiro also realized, as he tugged stubbornly at the utility belt that Lance had not earlier removed to better access the shirt, that Lance had gone still.

No more shivering.

"No," he breathed out. "No no no no no."

Shaking hands gave up on the belt and he pressed fingers instead to Lance's neck, desperately seeking a pulse.

He couldn't find one.

No pulse.

No pulse.

Oh God.

Shiro felt sick.

This was wrong.

They were in the castle now.

Lance was supposed to be all right. Things were supposed to be okay.

"Lance, _please,"_ Shiro's voice broke, patting at the dark cheek as though it could rouse him. "Come on buddy."

Lance didn't move.

Shiro went back to removing the clothing with a fevered desperation, prosthetic activating to slice through the belt with the sharp scent of burning metal. He hooked both hands under the bottom of the shirt then and _yanked_ and against the still heated fingers it stood no chance, melting and ripping at the same time.

Shiro finished shredding the shirt and tearing at the armsleeves and gloves, flinging the entire mess behind them with a damp plop. He was already reaching for one of the quilts and worked it around Lance's shoulders and back as he pulled him into a slumped sit, rubbing vigorously to generate friction and praying his prosthetic, lump of chilled metal, was not making it worse.

"Come on, come on," Shiro pleaded.

Did he try CPR? His brain felt like mush; was it chest compressions first? How many? Did he pinch the nose or was that for nosebleeds? Wasn't there something about the angle of the head?

He couldn't remember.

He was going to kill Lance because he couldn't remember.

Oh God.

He was going to kill–

Lance shuddered in his arms.

Shiro froze.

Lance did it again, a minute thing but it meant everything to Shiro.

He was breathing.

He was _alive._

Shiro needed to keep him that way.

He gave Lance's shoulders one last rub and then hastily laid him back onto the ground, making sure to tug the blanket fully closed across Lance's bare chest to preserve what little heat he could.

There he tugged (and destroyed) the rest of Lance's clothing, stripping him completely before grabbing another quilt and wrapping it about his lower half and then yanking off the soaked boots and socks, exposing toes that were looking more than a little blue.

Frostbite. Could a cryo-pod fix frostbite? Wouldn't that just make it worse?

Shiro shook the thought away. Not now. Don't think about Lance losing toes or fingers – God, had he checked his hands? Were they blue too? – and just focus on getting Lance dry and warm. That would keep him alive. That was most important right now.

He got to his own feet, his own limbs shaky, and in the process of going to Lance's dresser to retrieve socks – several pairs – he removed his own outer armor, pieces clunking to the floor that under normal circumstances would have Shiro wincing at the handling. He couldn't care less right now. His own underarmour was relatively dry and so Shiro left it on although he stripped off his glove.

He yanked three pairs of socks, the last one really only over Lance's toes from the bulk, onto Lance's feet and then grabbed the remaining quilt and wrapped it all about Lance from shoulder to calf.

Hair, Shiro realized, as he went to lift the blanket-wrapped figure and the wet strands hit his chin. There was no time to go to the bathroom for towels so Shiro grabbed the first article of clothing he saw – Lance's Altean blue robe – and scrubbed it vigorously over the dark head.

Lance gave another fullbody shiver and Shiro sent up a silent prayer.

Once that was done he regathered Lance into his arms and settled them both on the bed, lying next to Lance and cuddling him to his chest.

Despite all of the blankets it was like hugging an icicle.

A freezing, shaking icicle.

Shiro only clung tighter, pausing only to pull the comforter up and over both of them, the light of the room growing dim underneath the impromptu tent and Shiro hoped soon warmer as his breath, still coming out in harsh pants, permeated the enclosed space.

"Come on, come on Lance," he chanted, rubbing his hands up and down Lance's back and pressing the boy's still frigid nose against his chest. "Come on, buddy."

He was rewarded with another shiver and Shiro tucked Lance's still damp head beneath his chin, trying to tug him even closer as the shudders became more pronounced.

Lance let out a little moan of distress but it was the most beautiful thing Shiro had ever heard.

"That's it, that's it," he coaxed, "you're doing great, buddy. You're okay. It's going to be okay."

A whimper then and Shiro felt Lance _move,_ not just the shudders but his head shifted, digging into his chest and he felt Lance's hands, ensconced in the blanket but pressed between the two of them, twitch.

Shiro swallowed back a sob and squeezed Lance tighter instead.

Lance was going to be okay.

"Sh-Shiro?" Lance's voice was barely a breath, a chatter more than a word, but Shiro was already reevaluating his previous statement and _this_ was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard.

"Right here," Shiro murmured. "Right here. You're..." his voice broke from indescribable relief. "You're okay. I've got you. It's okay."

"Wh-what hap-p-pened?" His words were muffled, face still pressed against Shiro, and Shiro shushed him quietly, continuing to rub his hands up and down Lance's back and shoulders as the trembling grew more violent.

"In a bit," he said. "Just… just rest now, okay?"

Lance made a mumbled sound that Shiro took as an affirmative.

Quiet permeated the space then, broken up only by the sound of Lance's teeth clacking and the brush of cloth as Shiro moved his hands over the blankets. He could feel the change within a few minutes as Lance's trembles became faster and then slowed to just a couple deep ones and the air became almost stifling to him under the comforter.

Shiro pushed back his own discomfort, sweat starting to prickle on the back of his neck, and kept at it even though his hands hurt from rubbing the quilts so hard because Lance still needed the warmth.

It was only when Lance pulled back slightly, warm-damp hair now tickling Shiro's chin, that Shiro opted to push the blanket covering them back just a bit, not quite cold air infiltrating but something a little fresh even though he kept it still settled over their shoulders. The closeness now exposed to light was not something Shiro was terribly familiar with, but Lance was still snuggled close and he wasn't sure he could move his arms away even if he wanted to.

Dark ocean eyes were peering up at him now, framed by still pale but slightly pinkend cheeks and Shiro let out another sigh of relief. Blue was Lance's color in many things but it had no business being a part of his skin tone.

"The k-kid?" Lance asked and Shiro smiled fondly. Of course that was what Lance would recall and then ask after first.

"He's safe," Shiro assured, quietly adding, "thanks to you." He tried to put the pride he was feeling towards Lance's actions fully behind the words, rather than the shame he felt for how utterly useless he had been.

A flush of darker color stole across high cheekbones and Shiro was relieved.

But then…

"Are you oh-k-kay?"

"I'm not the one who fell into the lake," Shiro pointed out.

Lance fixed him with a stare and Shiro felt his own cheeks darken and not from the heat.

"I'm fine," Shiro said, forcing himself to meet Lance's sharp and much too knowing gaze. " _You're_ who I'm worried about. How're you feeling?"

"C-cold," Lance admitted. Shiro freed one hand from around Lance's back and pressed it to the boy's forehead. It was no longer a block of ice but it was still cool and he smoothed back the dark bangs, Lance leaning into the caress. "B-but I'm oh-k-kay."

"Once you're a little warmer we'll go to the kitchen," Shiro promised. "I think I can manage tea." Provided this time he didn't blow up the kettle again, and he pushed his terrible kitchen escapades to the side. "It'll help."

Lance gave a little hum and butted his head back against Shiro.

"I'm s-sorry." The words were hard to hear, muffled, but Shiro jolted.

What?

"'m sorry," Lance repeated, pulling his face free. "I… you…"

"Lance, you have nothing to apologize for," Shiro said gently, stroking his hand through the back of Lance's hair. " _I'm_ the one who is." He swallowed thickly. "I'm so sorry, Lance. You almost… almost _died_ because I couldn't do anything."

"You s-saved me," Lance retorted, conviction strong.

"Only because you saved yourself first. If you hadn't gotten back to the surface…"

Shiro had wanted to dive in, to fish Lance out himself. But he knew the moment he went into the lake it was over for both of them. Willpower could only overcome physical limitations so much and between his weight, armor and the shocking cold this was a situation Shiro could not have saved them from.

They'd both have died.

"You saved me," Lance insisted.

"Lance–"

"No," the word was firm, a bit of a bite that Shiro had not expected at all. "No," he repeated, softer. Shiro vaguely noted the stutter was gone. "Shiro, I got to the surface thinking of _you._ And then _you_ are the one who pulled me out and… and…" Lance's eyes for the first time left Shiro's face and tracked down, taking in the quilts and bedding. "And made me into a burrito…?" he put forth, small grin turning up his lips.

"You're not warm enough to be a burrito," Shiro told him, swallowing past the lump building in his throat.

Lance made a face and Shiro's last bit of fear melted away. "So I'm the gross frozen kind?"

"You're the best kind there is." And the darn lump was back, the words sounding more strangled than Shiro wanted.

Lance's expression softened into a smile. "Thank you, Shiro. Without you I…"

"And without you that child wouldn't be here either," Shiro said softly, giving Lance a squeeze. "You're amazing, Lance."

Lance averted his eyes as his cheeks darkened even more. "I'm nothing special."

"You are," Shiro countered. "You're brave. And compassionate. And very quick-witted. And," he tilted Lance's chin up to catch the ocean eyes, "you are one of the the most selfless, courageous people I have ever known. Thank _you_ for being you."

"Shiro…"

Shiro cleared his throat, shifting to withdraw his arms as Lance no longer needed them. "Now let's get you up and–"

"Wait." Lance maneuvered one hand out of his blanket cocoon and latched onto Shiro's retreating metal hand. "Can… can we just stay here for a little longer?"

Shiro smiled tenderly and gave a nod against the mattress. "Of course. Come here, burrito."

Lance let out a light laugh and wriggled back against Shiro, pillowing his head on the broad chest with a contented sigh.

Shiro let out one of his own as he wrapped his arms back around Lance and hugged him close.

This certainly hadn't been the billed afternoon of fun and games that Allura had wanted him to have. It had instead been terrifying and quite literally almost heart-stopping.

But as Lance let out a soft hum and cuddled closer, completely at peace and happy and _safe,_ Shiro knew he wouldn't have wanted it to end any other way.

xxx

 **Author's Notes:**

*One of the (many) symptoms of hypothermia is a weak pulse. Lance never stopped breathing there but his pulse became shallow enough that Shiro couldn't pick it out in that moment and moderate hypothermia (more severe than mild but not quite to possible fatal exposure yet) is represented by a lack of shivering, which the body does to try and warm itself (aka, homeostasis) as shivering creates warmth by expending energy in small shaking movements. Just a few notes for those that would like them :) Research, my old friend.

Commissioned fic for the lovely wingedflower (4k-5k) with the prompt of Lance suffering hypothermia from saving a child and Shiro being his caretaker. Angst, drama, fluff and cuddles… it's a Langst burrito and it is delicious.

If you all enjoyed the burrito, er, fanfic, please drop a comment below. Comments make authors happy and you want happy authors, right? (it's a proven fact that happy authors write more, so…) Share your favorite scene, dialogue, line, impression, etc. Please and thank you very much!

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